


Friday Night Date

by etherealApostate



Series: Gravity Fails [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gore, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Yikes, like intense gore, my mother would be ashamed of me, never written porn before also so double yikes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:31:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealApostate/pseuds/etherealApostate
Summary: A human Bill and an older Dipper indulge in a nice evening out -- wine, food, music, brutally murdering a power-hungry rival, and having sex in his blood. Enjoy.





	

“Don’t you look stunning,” Bill said.

Dipper, visibly uncomfortable in his clothes, adjusted his bow tie and studied himself in the mirror. Bill rose from the bed behind Dipper. Even though Dipper was physically older, Bill’s new corporeal form was the taller of the two: Bill hunched, all sinews, to rest his chin on Dipper’s shoulder. His hands slipped over Dipper’s chest and waist.

Dipper’s eyes gleamed intently from beneath the brush of deep brown hair over his forehead. He did not stop Bill, but instead reached to the bedside table and grabbed a small pistol from the drawer. Bill hung off him as he moved.

Dipper tucked the piece into the inner pocket of his suit coat. “Are you ready?”

“Always.” Bill turned Dipper to face him and bent down: Dipper raised his chin, and their lips brushed lightly. A slight kiss; a small exchange of breath.

They departed, hungry for more.

 

The party was subdued, as, Bill had found, most upperclass parties were. A fine light glimmered from the chandelier.

Bill was enjoying himself. He sampled hors d’ouerves and flirted his way into a duet with the pianist, and through the hour they spent in peace, he kept an eye on Dipper. Dipper, by contrast, was hardly at home: his lower-middle-class origins were obvious from the moment he had put on the suit, let alone stepped into the party. At the moment that Bill sighted their opportunity, Dipper was being reluctantly chatted up by a tall girl in an unfortunate sort of leopard-print dress. He looked relieved when Bill caught his eye and nodded.

This was a very special case. Pacifica Northwest, a former patron of Dipper’s services, had come to them with a small problem shortly after Bill and Dipper had begun working together.

In exchange for the rectification of that small problem, Pacifica had agreed to facilitate the removal of a long-term problem of Dipper’s.

Alex Sanders was and had been this long-term problem. He was the crucial piece in a certain coup of other people looking for power in Gravity Falls. Not political or even basic magical power, no; the kind of power that had brought Dipper and Bill together in seeking. Something old, something dangerous, something outside even Bill’s vast knowledge.

So when Alex Sanders, a lean man with shaggy hair and clifflike features, departed to the library on his way to the washroom, he was followed at a distance by first Dipper, then Bill.

In the library, dwarfed by the broad expanses of books, Dipper softly closed and bolted the great double-doors leading back to the party. Bill stalked the margins of the room, muttering to himself, and came to rest by a tall _memento mori_ replica guarding the hall to the washroom. Dipper hung back, in dead view of the hallway, and began fitting a silencer on his pistol. The scene was a determined tension, that thin, exposed nerve of momentary calm like a Greek vase displays. Exekias would have been proud.

The nerve snapped when Bill heard footsteps in the hall. He nodded to Dipper.

Dipper fixated on Bill for one moment – the slitted feline eye, the straight-hanging golden hair, the glimmering fanglike incisors of his smile – and felt a rush of desire. He wasn’t sure if this was from his lover-partner’s visage or from his impending kill. He wasn’t sure it mattered.

Because the footsteps had gotten near and loud, and the heavy oak door was opening, and Dipper raised his gun –

“Darling, wait a moment,” Bill said.

The stunned face of Alex Sanders turned from Dipper to Bill, who had slid over to block the hall door. Dipper was a hair of determination from pulling the trigger; he gritted his teeth. Just like Bill to _pull something_ now.

“What.” This better be good.

“Why don’t we have some fun instead? Not like a mess will upset our hostess, will it?”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Pacifica—“ He was cut short with a flash of thick wire, as Bill slipped a garrote around his neck and pulled him backwards.

“Go ahead,” Bill called to Dipper. “You know he deserves it.” Bill watched, savored, as Dipper tilted his head in brief consideration. It would surely be quieter to not use a gun.

Suddenly, Dipper broke into a quick stride, and crossed the room. Alex found himself sandwiched between Dipper and Bill.

“I’ll scream,” Alex choked out.

For the first time, Dipper smiled – not a bright, uncanny smile, like Bill’s; rather, a slow and dark twisting of the face.

“C’mon, Alex. Didn’t you read your invite?” Dipper’s hand slithered between Alex and Bill, feeling and successfully drawing out a folded invitation from Alex’s back pocket. “Fireworks, nine-thirty,” Dipper read, and tossed the invitation aside. As if on cue, a loud boom echoed close by. “Everyone’s outside.”

Fear began to really show in Alex’s eyes now.

“God,” Dipper said impatiently. “Bill was right. You really are dumber than I thought.”

Bill knew that this was the tipping point, and oh, he loved seeing the real sadist in Dipper come out to play.

Dipper reached into his own pocket and flicked open a razor-sharp pocket knife. Something occurred to him, and he began to giggle as he slowly raised the knife.

Alex struggled. Bill pulled harder. Alex began to turn blue.

“So nice of you to slick back your hair for me,” Dipper said. He pressed the knifetip into Alex’s forehead and dragged.

Alex’s gurgle of a scream was masked by the boom of fireworks.

Dipper let himself go and immediately was lost in the pleasure of the skin that parted like the Red Sea under his knife -- the pleasure of this absolutely helpess _piece of shit_ whose flesh now exuded such gentle and eager wells of blood.

“Your blood’s too good for you,” Dipper murmured as he put the last stroke in the big-dipper sign now carved into Alex’s forehead. Bill let out an intoxicated giggle. Alex swooned, blood from his forehead dripping into his eyes; Dipper gave him a hard right hook as soon as he began to sag. No, for now, Alex would remain conscious for his suffering.

As Alex continued to slump, with pain and lack of oxygen beginning to take their toll, Bill let him fall to the ground. Both Bill and Dipper knelt, Bill pulling out his own knife.

Slowly, Dipper unbuttoned Alex’s jacked, waistcoat, shirt, and positioned his knife at Alex’s sternum. Alex immediately began to struggle, sensing what was about to happen.

In a few quick moves, Bill sliced through Alex’s sleeves and pants legs as Dipper waited, and expertly severed the tendons in the arms and legs. He smiled with relish at each pop. Blood began to leak into the mild green rug.

Dipper didn’t bother to thank Bill – he was seriously into his work by now, as he straddled Alex’s chest, raised his knife, and stabbed brutally into the solar plexus. Bill laughed again, his eyes almost as maniacal as Dipper’s, as Alex’s body convulsed in shock and blood rose up from the wound. Dipper gave the soon-to-be corpse no respite, but immediately dug back into the wound and ran his knife deep down the man’s stomach. More blood rose and flowed – Dipper’s pants were stained an even darker black now – and as he reached up to wipe his face, the blood from his hands smeared across those lovely freckles on his cheeks.

Bill now decided to have some fun. Gently, he knelt beside Alex’s hips, and started dislocating the man’s internal organs. The intestines, stomach, kidneys were all pulsing with a luscious warmth as Bill strained each one (still connected) out of the internal cavity. Gutted like a biology specimen. Bill ran a sharp fingernail lovingly over one glistening length of intestine.

Meanwhile, Dipper had been working off the fingers; when Bill seemed done, they exchanged a look. Time for the final ritual.

Dipper changed positions, kneeling on the other side of Alex’s chest, and felt for the ribs’ central connection. He carefully positioned his knife above the lowest, then brought down his fist on the handle. The splintering sound seemed to intensify his urgency, and he dispatched the rest of the ribs in quick succession. Dipper then carefully cut from the clavicle’s point of meeting to the bottom of the ribcage, reached in, and (with great effort) pried it open.

God, it was divine. The cracking of each bone was a staccato accentuation to each gleaming squelch of the shifting organs – and at last, the ribcage lay open.

At some point, Dipper realized, Alex Sanders must have died.

This seemed perfectly natural. Dipper simply nodded to Bill to do the honors.

Bill reached into the lovely abyss of the chest, and with a mighty tug, pulled out Alex’s still-warm heart.

Then, slowly, he raised it to his mouth, eyes closed. Bill almost kissed the heart, but instead – quick as a snake – bit into it.

The remaining blood splashed up against Bill’s face, sheathing his pale and feral features in shining red. Nice, Dipper thought. Hearts were tough; it was hard to hit a cavity like that.

As Bill chewed, he handed the heart to Dipper. Dipper bit in more slowly, savoring the significance of this barbaric consumption.

All faces bloody, Bill held Alex’s mouth open while Dipper nestled the heart inside. The perfect gag.

Both stood.

Bill couldn’t stand it any more. He grabbed Dipper by the lapels, pulled him close, and bit into him with a hungry kiss. Dipper kissed back eagerly, their tongues exchanging the same blood.

Dipper found himself being walked back to, then pinned up against, a wall of books. Bill’s mouth, on his again, then diving down his neck in needy, sharp bites. When Bill pulled back, Dipper looked up at him, all his former concentrated intent now transformed into sheer breathless energy.

“You did so well,” Bill murmured into Dipper’s ear. Dipper in return leaned up and bit Bill’s own earlobe, pulling it down, biting in enough to know he was causing Bill pain.

“I know,” Dipper said, and pushed Bill off him. The two circled each other, on either side of the scene of carnage they had just created, stalking one another in anticipation.

This had become something of a ritual for them after kills.

Dipper made the first move. He darted left and lunged at Bill, tackling him to the ground. Bill squirmed, his hips grinding upwards into Dipper’s. Dipper grinned, pulling his own hips away and raising himself to hands and knees, as if to tease Bill.

Bill let out a soft moan. In response, Dipper lowered himself, and placed his hands around Bill’s sticky throat.

“Sssh,” Dipper whispered, “Fireworks are over.”

“Right,” Bill breathed through a steely grin. “Shame if someone were to scream.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Bill responded by twisting sideways and sinking his teeth deep into Dipper’s wrist. Blood mixed with blood mixed with spittle, and Dipper caught his breath hard and ground back into Bill with excitement.’

“See,” Bill said, “I know how to keep you on your toes.”

“Shut up,” Dipper said, but didn’t wait for obedience. Instead, he kissed Bill hard, and caught Bill’s tongue with his teeth, and bit, and took every pleasure in the convulsion of Bill’s face beneath his own.

When he relented, Bill went limp for a moment, then surprised Dipper by flipping the two of them so that Bill was on top.

“Tables have turned, kid,” Bill said. He reached down, and his fingers fumbled for a minute, til he found his abandoned knife. Bill teased the blade down Dipper’s lower lip, then chin, then soft neck streaked with crimson. Dipper removed one hand from its former position, pressing Bill’s hips into his own, and  placed the blade back on his lip.

“One. Here.”

Bill’s face cracked again into a smile, and he ever-so-gently nicked the blade into the skin and pulled down. He could just see the flesh billow slightly under the metal before three thick beads of blood welled up and melded together and began to dribble sideways across Dipper’s mouth.

Dipper let out a long, desirous breath, and Bill caught it suddenly in his own mouth. Moving to the lower lip, Bill bit gently, and just as gently he tongued blood out again and again from the cut, drinking it up.

At last Bill pulled away, and looked at Dipper’s face. Hair tangled, smeared with blood, and completely given over to desire was the visage that greeted him.

Enough was enough, Bill decided, and began unbuttoning his lover’s pants. Dipper ground his hips into Bill’s hand. Soon enough both were half-naked, and Bill was lightly stroking Dipper’s cock, smearing it with the barest film of a dead man’s blood.

What they were doing, what they had done, suddenly hit Dipper and sent chills down his spine. There was only one good reaction to that.

“Fuck me,” he commanded Bill.

Bill’s grin widened incomprehensibly. He reached down and smartly rolled Dipper over, then dragged him up onto his hands and knees. Dipper heard Bill fumbling in his suit pocket for something, and before he knew it he was rocking rhythmically  backwards onto two cool fingers.

When the fingers left him empty, Dipper almost whined, but stopped it deep in his throat – he could already practically _hear_ Bill grinning. No need to encourage him.

But in a moment, all Dipper’s concerns were gone, for he felt Bill slowly pushing the head of his cock into him. As the seconds went by, Dipper became aware that he was panting slightly, and by the time Bill’s hips were digging into his own ass, Dipper was desperate to be even more filled than this.

“Come _on,_ ”Dipper demanded.

Bill paused for a moment, slowly withdrew halfway, and then stabbed in. Hard.

Dipper started to scream, but found his mouth stuffed by Bill’s hand, and so he bit down hard. He could almost feel the nerves crunching under his teeth – and damn straight, yes, Bill deserved that.

Bill giggled slightly, withdrew again, and continued at a more steady pace that Dipper soon found himself rocking backwards to meet. As they fucked, and picked up speed, Dipper’s eyes fell to the single dismembered thumb on the ground a foot before him.

That sent him over the edge. Dipper came, hard and fast, and Bill was only a second behind, thrusting himself as deep into Dipper as he could physically manage, both lost in the fulfillment of their lust.

At last, Bill collapsed on top of Dipper, and both breathed in synchronization for a few moments.Then Bill slowly withdrew himself and stood. His entire body, both clothed and naked, was caked in drying blood; Dipper couldn’t imagine that his own state was much different.

“Fuck,”Dipper breathed. “That was… Yeah.”

Bill nodded, but unlike Dipper, the savage look in his eye was not diminished. He helped Dipper up, and offered his arm. They exited to the washroom.


End file.
